sit with me a while
by StopBreakingMyHeartTellTale
Summary: [sequel to write to me] oneshot requests: Can you do a sequel for Write to Me? / Can you write a fic about Willy mourning Mitch? We didn't get to see much other than the beginning of episode 3... / I know you said you wished we could have gone to Mitch's funeral, so maybe you could write a fic about that? - I'm extra sad now so y'all gotta be extra sad with me.


_The water's freezing, the cold soaking into his bones as he kicks his feet at the passing fish._

_With the sun peeking over the horizon, barely lighting the lake or the trees, one would think the air is just as chilled. It's the opposite- warm and heavy with the scent of summer, something sweet and floral. The perfect temperature._

_Willy's cheeks flush crimson as if he just finished an hour-long run, or if he were running a fever. Scooting closer to the edge, he sticks his long, lanky legs further into the coolness, soaking the ends of his shorts. Mud squishes between his toes as he digs them in deeper. Something wiggles against the soles, perhaps a worm or even a snake, but he's not too worried about it._

_He slips further into the water until fully engulfed. The contrast between hot and cold burns his flesh in an oddly pleasant way. Willy remains beneath the surface for a long time, the pressure in his ears or the need to breathe not a pressing issue or even a concern._

_No, if anything, the only things that hurt are his eyes. They're sore, heavy, and somehow dry even when submerged. He can barely keep them open to admire the beauty within the water. Schools of tiny colorful fish, bright blue crabs crawling among the moss and iridescent rocks, seahorses whizzing around each other as if playing a game of tag._

_Willy wants to watch it all, wants to swim out there and join the underwater creatures, but he can barely see._

_He can't remember the last time his eyes hurt this much._

_Hell, the last time he cried like this-_

_There's laughter._

_It's muffled, deep._

_Willy squints through the pain, searching the water, but the source of the laughter isn't down here._

_Of course not, he thinks. Fish can't laugh._

_The water breaks and he takes a gulp of fresh air. He spits, blowing his nose and shaking his head, droplets spraying from his sopping locks._

_The laughter is clear now._

_"Oh, c'mon!"_

_The crash of a can._

_High-pitched whimpers._

_Willy rubs at his eyes, wincing._

_"Really?!"_

_A voice responds, something gargled like if a walker tried to talk._

_It's enough for him to pull forward, clinging to the land and climbing up, still rubbing his eyes on his arms and blinking away any blurriness brought on by the water._

_Frantic, exuberant barking._

_His eyes- his ears- they're lying to him. They have to be._

_Royal purple adorns the front of Louis' shirt as a man- someone unrecognizable- flings a paintbrush at him. Rosie jumps and barks with excitement as she chases after it._

_Willy becomes rigid, half stuck in the cold water at the sight before him. He blinks several times, but nothing changes._

_Louis dodges to the side, the paintbrush smacking against the side of the house-_

_The house?_

_Willy hurts his neck cranking it back to try and see the top of the half-painted house- no, not a house- half-painted mansion but all he sees are clouds. Big, fluffy, gray clouds high up in the orange and lavender sky hide the rest of the building, and for the first time since his growth spurt, Willy feels small._

_Small, cold, weakened, dumbfounded, a little terrified- a cocktail of emotions boiling in his belly._

_The mansion towers over everything; over the trees, over the lake, over the whole world. Old, metal ladders press against the side, paint cans, rollers, and brushes spread out across the healthy grass, and plastic protects new pristine windows. The double doors are missing from the front, laying against the staircase leading up to their future placement, glossy from a fresh coat of white paint._

_Rosie barks again, Willy's gaze darting away from the doors and back to her. She buzzes with radiant energy, bouncing and howling for attention._

_There's something heavy and sour in his throat as he watches Louis pick up a paint can and move it over to the ladder, whistling for Rosie to follow. She's close behind, her tail wagging gleefully and her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth._

_"Rosie…" Willy covers his mouth as liquid warmth spreads behind his sore eyes. He tries wiping them on his sleeve again, but the material's soaked, only making it worse._

_Louis calls out something more, but being so far away, the words are like soft murmurs hidden in the breeze sweeping the area._

_The man- Willy tries to get a look at his face, but can't- shakes his head and walks away with an endearing little grin. Louis calls after him, holding up the paint can for emphasis._

_"Louis…?" The name feels strange on his tongue, like one that hasn't been spoken in a long time, nearly becoming foreign._

_He continues to speak, more so to himself and Rosie, and perhaps Willy could hear him better if his heart wasn't beating so damn hard in his ears._

_Burying his face in the grass, Willy allows darkness to overcome his sight as he counts to five before looking up._

_"No, no, that's-"_

_It's still Louis kneeling down to adjust the ladder, and it's still Rosie sitting beside him, so he does it again._

_Still Louis, chuckling about something the man said as he pours paint._

_Still Rosie, leaning forward to press her snout against the grass._

_She finds a clean paintbrush, picking it up and sitting patiently with her little tail wagging in the grass._

_Louis chuckles, patting her head and taking it from her._

_"Good girl."_

_If there was ever a distinguishable laugh ingrained in Willy's brain, even after all these years, it would be Louis', and it brings a heartbreaking nostalgia that bubbles over in his stomach up into his chest._

_A shaky breath passes his lips as he yanks himself fully out of the water and stumbles to his feet. Whether it be due to the physical weight of the water in his clothes or the weight in his mind and chest, he struggles to stay standing. Stumbling, practically crawling on his hands and knees, he gets closer._

_The closer he gets, the more clear Louis' form and words, the more panicked his gut becomes._

_That's when Willy realizes that he's not just speaking- he's singing._

_"...I wish I had something more to give you..."_

_Willy stops._

_Rosie softly howls with the song as if to sing with him._

_"Good girl," Louis laughs. "...You've been feeling bad this time of year..."_

_That night-_

_It hits him quick, like a flash in his brain._

_The last image he had of Louis prior to this moment._

_That night they brought everyone home._

_"...If I could I would drive out to see you…"_

_Well, almost everyone._

_"...Take it from me, I'd be lost without you…"_

_Clementine, AJ, and Tenn were still out there, lost in the chaos of the delta explosion and Louis refused to stay put. Aasim tried to get him to stay, said it was too dangerous for him to go out there alone, said they needed his help to take care of Omar and Violet, said they would go out for them in a group once they've rested, but he didn't- he couldn't._

_"...I try to run away, but you're running up on me faster, and I could barely breathe, I couldn't even turn around…"_

_The last time Willy ever saw him was when he ran through the gates and out into the woods._

_That's it._

_Can't even remember the last thing he said before he left. Willy didn't think about it at the time- he was too busy sorting through the supplies he stole off the rafts._

_"...I only hope we make it home safe and sound…"_

_The next morning, AJ wheeled Clementine up in a wheelbarrow, both of them covered in walker guts and Clem missing her leg, barely holding on._

_Tenn was missing._

_And Louis was dead._

_"...Safe and sound…"_

_Eaten alive._

_Nothing left of him._

_When they had his funeral, they buried his deck of cards._

_Clementine wouldn't let them touch the piano, not even to break a piece off to bury, too. Even in her weakened state, she still threatened Aasim when he suggested it._

_No one said it, but they all thought 'no one is going to play that piano anymore, so why not lay it to rest with him?'_

_But, they weren't going to fight with her on it, not when she had to drag herself out on crutches to attend- against Ruby's concerns- and could barely stand through it. Willy had to bring around a chair for her to sit down, and Ruby covered her with a heavy blanket before she collapsed._

_They weren't wrong, though._

_No one has played that piano in five years._

_The only one who goes in the music room anymore is Clementine, and when she's in there, no one else is allowed in- AJ's rule._

_He doesn't know what she does in there, not really. He knows she sits at the piano with the wooden cover placed over the keys, and he knows she sits there and writes stuff in some notebook._

_He spied on her one night through the crack in the door. He wasn't trying to be creepy, even though AJ thought he was and banned him from the music room forever, which was a little harsh. He just wanted to make sure she was okay._

_Willy feels a chill that starts at his muddy feet and travels up his calves, along the shirt clinging to his back and shudders his shoulders with every step he takes closer to the mansion._

_Louis begins singing a new song, which excites Rosie as she begins yapping at him and howling along._

_He looks..._

_What's the word Willy's looking for?_

_Bright? Carefree? Buoyant? ...Real?_

_...Alive?_

_"...So we'll find a mountain path on down the hill... C'mon, Rosie! ...Meet me where the snow mount flows..."_

_Willy can't even remember if he cried at Louis' funeral. Surely, he must have, didn't he?_

_Did he?_

_Was that the last time he's cried this much…?_

_No._

_Willy forces himself to stand._

_No, that would be Mitch's funeral._

_After Willy had lashed out at Tenn, shoving him to the ground and threatening him until the other boy ran away, Louis went after him._

_He got down to his level and forced eye contact. In his fit of heated rage, his heartbreaking despair over the loss of the most important being in his life, Willy swung and pounded his fists against Louis' chest, not even bothering to hold in his tears and enraged sobs. He remembers Ruby telling him to stop, but more so he remembers Louis grabbing both of his wrists to pull him into a hug._

_When he closes his eyes, he can still hear Louis telling him it's okay that he's upset, to let it all out, get it out of his system._

_Eventually, he calmed down and Louis helped him carry Mitch to the grave Ruby dug._

_Willy never forgot that._

_Not a single detail- Mitch's bloody face, his lifeless eyes, Clementine's promises, Louis' warmth and comforting hug, Tenn's shame and guilt-ridden, downcasted gaze, Ruby's muffled sobs- was forgotten._

_If he closes his eyes, he can see himself standing before the freshly dug grave where Ruby covered Mitch with shovels over dirt until he was gone. Gone and never seen again, nothing left of him._

_The only thing Willy to remind him of what Mitch looked like was a school picture of him when he first got here. The one he keeps tape up on his desk next to Mitch's favorite knife._

_The funeral was over quick- they didn't have time to mourn him. Not really._

_They had raiders to kill._

_Willy finally approaches them, close enough to that what he's seeing is true._

_Rosie's head bolts up, her ears straight and amber eyes alert. She scans the area, sniffing the air. When she sees Willy, he holds her stare just as he holds his breath, waiting._

_There's barely any time to react or gasp out when she bolts towards him. Falling back to his knees, Willy opens his arms to her as she leaps at him, lapping at his face and whines._

_"Rosie!" Willy sobs into her warm fur, holding onto her tightly for fear that she'd fade away. "Oh, it's you! Good girl! Good girl!"_

_A shadow falls over them. Willy pulls the eager dog away from his line of vision to see Louis' wide, curious eyes peering down at him. There's paint dried to his cheek and hands, but his skin appears bright and so… alive._

_"Louis?"_

_Something registers within him, and Louis grins._

_"Willy, I thought it was you," Louis chuckles, sitting down beside him and pulling Rosie off from her attack on his face. "It's been a while."_

_Rosie barks, refusing to be ignored, pressing her wet nose into his neck. When Willy goes to pet her again, he notices that all of the white and gray hairs are gone from her muzzle and around her eyes. No more deformed lumps scatter across her sides and hips, no more broken teeth or bent whiskers, no more blood caked to the fur around her bum or tail._

_She's young again, perhaps a little older than a full-grown pup._

_"How ya doing, buddy?" Louis' tender voice interrupts his thoughts._

_A ball of dread plops down from his chest into his stomach, something that nearly jerks him back to reality- or rather, whatever this is. When he touches her face, he expects her to fall cold, maybe become old again, but she doesn't._

_"With everything, I mean," Louis adds. "Heard it's been a tough week."_

_He 'heard?' What did that mean?_

_"I know what happened," Louis answers without him breathing the question, something Willy would've immediately concluded as physic, telepathic superpowers, but since Rosie's here in the first place... Of course he knows._

_"I… I don't know."_

_Louis nods, sighing as he looks back at the mansion._

_"I used to worry about it, you know," he says, "What it would do to everyone, especially you and Tenn since you both grew up with her."_

_Rosie snuggles herself into Willy's lap, playfully nipping at his fingers as he pets her neck and face._

_"I ever tell you I had a pet turtle?"_

_"No," Willy shakes his head. "But, Clem said you did."_

_"Geoff," Louis beams. "I loved him. He was small and slow, but he could devour one of those huge strawberries in seconds. It was awesome."_

_"Why a turtle?" Willy asks. "Why not a dog? Or a cat?"_

_"Mom was allergic to a lot of furry animals, and Geoff was anything but furry," he laughs, reaching out to rub Rosie's belly. "When I got sent away, I wasn't allowed to take him with me. He had to go stay with my grandma and I never got to see him again."_

_"Oh..."_

_"Well," Louis smirks, "until now. Geoff's in charge of the garden in the back. He's strict and a little grumpy, but he grows the best damn strawberries you've ever eaten."_

_Willy bursts into a fit of giggles. "What?"_

_"He does!" Louis insists. "Strawberries, raspberries, corn, carrots, blueberries! And, he just planted some apple trees, too. Best damn garden turtle I could've ever asked for."_

_Willy can't help it, he's almost choking because he's laughing too hard. Rosie sits up, curiously watching the boy with her tail moving at top speeds._

_Louis laughs with him, and when that laughter dies down, he places a comforting hand on his shoulder._

_"It'll get better," he says. "I promise. Shit like this always hurts like hell at first."_

_"I know."_

_"If it makes you feel better, Rosie misses you guys just as much."_

_Rosie barks in agreement, and Louis chuckles._

_"See?"_

_Willy tries to smile, but can't find it in himself as he scratches Rosie's ears, studying her youthful face. Those are nothing but vibrant amber, a contrast to the bloodshot black that she had in her final moments._

_"She loves it here."_

_"Yeah, I know, it's just-" Willy sighs, "it sucks. It really, really sucks."_

_Louis studies him a moment, his hand absently running along Rosie's back. She's calmed down, her large head resting in Willy's lap again as her eyes droop shut._

_"How's everyone else doing?"_

_"They're okay, I think. AJ and Tenn drew this big picture of her with all of us there with these treats laying all around for her to chew on. Aasim helped me make a big cross to stick in the grave and I carved some cool designs in it. We bur- um, we buried her between you and Marlon."_

_Louis nods, smiling._

_"That's a good place."_

_They're quiet, enjoying the humid breeze that rustles the grass and watching the golden sun continue to rise._

_Willy glances over at him, wondering if he should continue._

_"Clementine did it," he says slowly. "Put her down, I mean. Aasim was gonna do it but… looking at her just- none of us could, so she stepped in and..." he trails off._

_"Took care of her," Louis continues to nod, though his smile falls into a thoughtful look as his hand travels to Rosie's chest, scratching the one good spot that always got her leg kicking. "Of course she did."_

_Willy's chin quivers, but he takes a deep breath to calm himself down, sighing, "We didn't want her to suffer anymore, y'know?"_

_"I know."_

_Louis gets to his feet, rolling his shoulders as if to relieve some tension._

_"Well, Willy, it's good to see you again, but I have a feeling I'm not the one you really wanted to talk to about this, or that you're here to help me with my project," he jerks his thumb back at the mansion. "Five years and I've only got about two-hundred of the floors built." He shakes his head, hands resting on his hips. "Turns out, nine-hundred and fourteen is a lot. Go figure."_

_"Nine-hundred and fourteen?" Willy looks up at the never-ending mansion._

_"I told Clem it'd take me a long time to finish this thing. Then again, I am damn proud of the two-hundred I have now. Besides, it's going a lot quicker with the others helping out more recently."_

_"The others?"_

_Louis nudges him with his foot, saying, "C'mon."_

_Willy takes his hand, letting himself be pulled up as Rosie groans, disturbed of her rest. They stare out over the lake, now glossy and glimmering with the rising sun._

_"Over there," Louis points._

_It's the largest oak tree Willy's ever seen- one with a tire swing attached and what looks like a treehouse under construction. Hell, the biggest damn treehouse he's ever seen, too. Perfectly placed in the middle, it almost looks like someone built the base of a house, picked it up, and plopped it up in the tree only to find out it's the perfect fit._

_How did he not see that before?_

_Louis wraps an arm around his shoulders and guides him closer, Rosie following close behind._

_"Looks pretty good, huh?"_

_"It's huge!" Willy marvels. "Did you build this, too?"_

_"Nope."_

_"Geoff?"_

_That gets a loud laugh of out him. "No, not Geoff."_

_There's movement, a shadowed figure passing by one of the unfinished windows. Boot heels click against the wood above them, accompanied by unintelligible grumbling. Something metal drops, clanking against something so familiar- a toolbox?_

_"Shit!"_

_Willy comes to an abrupt halt at the curse, lips parting in a hitched gasp. He stares up at Louis with wide, bewildered eyes, questioning his sanity more so than ever now. Just to ground himself again, Willy grabs ahold of Louis shirt- it's really there, the fabric in his hands- as he waits, gazing up at the treehouse._

_More footsteps, then the pounding of a hammer._

_"He put his heart and soul into this," Louis says. "Keeps pretty busy up there most days."_

_"...Really?"_

_"Yeah," Louis grins. "He won't admit it, but he's been hoping you'd come visit for a while now."_

_Willy goes to speak but finds his mouth dry and tongue heavy._

_Regardless, Louis gives him a knowing look and pulls his arm back, leaving Willy's shoulders feeling much colder against the wind._

_"You shouldn't keep him waiting. He could use the company, I think."_

_With that, he turns to walk back as panic shoots through Willy's spine._

_"Wait, Louis?" he calls after him._

_"Hm?"_

_Willy finds he can't hold his gaze, instead choosing to peer down at the caked mud stuck to his feet._

_"You… you're not-"_

_"I know, Willy."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Don't be. It was a long time ago."_

_"Who cares how long it's been? I still feel sorry that it happened. I just…" Willy finally looks at him. "I wanted to tell you that Clem- Clem really misses you," he murmurs. "AJ, too. And Tenn, he still draws pictures of you and Clem together... here, I think. I don't know, but he really misses you, too, and so does Violet, and-"_

_That glow Louis had about him dulls, just a bit, as his expression becomes darker, sadder. He blinks several times in an attempt to compose himself, to hide that gloss to his eyes._

_"I know, buddy. I miss you all, too," he finally says, offering a genuine, but dejected smile. "Now, go."_

_"Yeah, yeah I will."_

_He claps, gaining Rosie's full attention._

_"C'mon, Rosie! You're slackin' again! This place isn't going to build itself! Hop to it! We've still got seven-hundred floors to go!"_

_Rosie barks._

_"Excuse me! Seven-hundred and fourteen! Can't forget the fourteen! Clementine will have my hide if we forget the fourteen!"_

_She peers up at Willy one last time, panting and licking her lips. Willy moves back down to her, hugging her to him as she whimpers._

_"You're the bestest girl in the whole world," Willy tries to keep his voice calm, but it comes out as more of a croak. "Goodbye, Rosie..." He presses a kiss against her forehead, which she returns with a lick on his cheek._

_Willy lets her go, watching her trot off after Louis._

_Together they get back to work on the mansion._

_Willy lingers to soak in that image of Louis to replace the real one he had, the one that was a blur, and to remember Rosie as a dog with nothing but youth and love coursing in her veins._

_"Shit-"_

_His hands cover his face as he takes long, shuddering breaths._

_The hammering above him grows louder._

_Willy sniffles, mumbling, "Stop it, stop..."_

_He's not a child anymore. He can't go up there like this. No, he needs to get his shit together and show that he's grown up now. He needs to act his size._

_One deep breath after another, Willy calms his heavy, racing heart and faces the treehouse again. Thick planks of wood secure against the trunk of the massive tree create a ladder to the opening beneath the structure._

_With another heavy inhale, Willy begins his climb. While this isn't the longest tree he's ever made his way up, it's still the biggest. He didn't know a tree's trunk could grow like this. The ones surrounding Ericson are twigs compared to this monster._

_The pounding of the hammer is close, nearly vibrating through the wooden pieces. Once he reaches the top, Willy cautiously peeks over the edge of the opening._

_It's..._

_It's set up to resemble the basement, with a workbench and several cases with shelves adorning various tools, toys, books, weapons, and other supplies. However, unlike the basement, it's bright and open with plenty of space to move around and work in. The glassless windows let in the morning sun to heat the floor and illuminate the center of the place. When he pulls himself up more, he spots a couch with a brand new guitar pressed against it, and posters of various bands and movies cover the walls, all with graffiti smeared over them._

_The hammering stops as a string of incoherent grumbles hum behind him._

_Willy's breath hitches when he turns._

_Down on his hands and knees in the doorway of the treehouse, Mitch checks the sturdiness of the frame, grasping and giving it a jerk. When it doesn't move, he nods to himself and moves to the other side._

_Willy's hands shake violently, even when he balls them into fists. Scrambling to his feet, careful to mind the opening as he moves in closer._

_"Mitch?"_

_The hammering stops again._

_Neither of them moves._

_Willy can see Mitch glance at him from the corner of his eye. Then, he slowly turns on his heels to face him._

_He's exactly how Willy remembers; fair skin adorned with various freckles, dark hair that falls around the nape of his neck and hides his forehead, broad shoulders and long legs, a dimple in his chin, a scar along his right hand..._

_It's even the same shape and color, crossed around the back of his hand and up his wrist. He got it when one of Willy's traps malfunctioned, nearly dropping a log on him before Mitch yanked him out of the way. The force of it sent them flying back into their supplies where one of the arrows sliced up his hand. They were lucky it didn't go through, but it still brought on overwhelming guilt every time Willy looked at it, no matter how many times Mitch said he'd rather have a fucked up hand instead of the alternative._

_Yet another thing Willy did to hurt him..._

_"Holy shit," Mitch breathes out._

_He stands, letting the hammer drop to crash against the wood._

_Willy's eyes burn as he swallows the lump in his dry, sore throat. He has to bite his lip to still his trembling chin, screaming in his mind to hold himself together._

_Mitch steps closer into the warm light, eyeing him up and down in disbelief, gaze widening and brows furrowing._

_"Holy shit…" he repeats. "Look at you."_

_When he's close enough, Willy realizes that for the first time he can look Mitch straight in the eye without any trouble, a jarring contrast to five years ago when he would jump on the furniture and pretend he towered over him and everyone else._

_Mitch smirks._

_"Told'ja you wouldn't be small forever."_

_Willy smiles wide enough to cause a strain in his cheeks, barring all of his crooked teeth._

_"Yeah, you did," he shakes his head. "Should've listened to you."_

_Willy tries to memorize everything he can of Mitch's face but looks away when heat begins to threaten his eyes again. He twitches, wanting to throw himself at Mitch and hold him, sob into his chest like he did when he was little, when the world ended and they were abandoned._

_He doesn't- can't._

_Instead, Willy holds out his trembling hand._

_"I- I'm happy to see you."_

_Mitch cocks a brow at the gesture, but takes it silently, giving a firm shake._

_His skin feels real, his warmth soaking into Willy's and it boggles his mind. He tightens his grip, shaking back._

_Mitch chuckles, rolling his eyes._

_Before Willy can question it, he's jerked forward and enveloped by Mitch's arms around his shoulders. Stunned, he stands there as Mitch presses a hand against the back of his head, smoothing out his hair, and grumbling, "No need to be so formal, old man. I'm happy to see you, too."_

_"...You hate hugs."_

_"You're an exception."_

_With that, Willy allows himself to wrap his arms around Mitch's waist and hug him back tightly._

_When it's time to pull away, he doesn't want to. He doesn't want Mitch to see the tears threatening to spill over or the quiver in his chin._

_"C'mon," Mitch pulls him out the doorway and onto a porch. "Come sit with me for a while."_

_The sun's higher in the sky now, burning orange within the lavender sky, illuminating the world much more than before. From out here, they can hear Louis and Rosie singing again._

_They sit together at the end of the porch, letting their legs dangle over the edge. Willy peers down, realizing just how high up they are. Not that he's afraid of heights of anything, but something about being this close to falling makes him nervous, so he scoots closer to Mitch._

_"Rosie hit you pretty hard, huh?" he asks._

_Willy's quiet, watching the dog in question bring Louis a new paintbrush._

_"I'll take that as a yes," he sighs. "When she showed up here, we were all worried about it, about you and Tenn and AJ and whatnot. Didn't know how you'd take it."_

_"We didn't have a choice."_

_"No, you didn't. It's better this way, though, and I know how shitty that is to hear right now, but it's true. Keepin' her around in the state she was would've been cruel."_

_"I know."_

_"You're gonna be okay."_

_"I know."_

_"Willy."_

_He meets Mitch's eye._

_"...What else?"_

_"What?"_

_"You've got more on your mind than Rosie."_

_Of course, he does, how could he not?_

_Mitch- real or not- is there beside him for the first time since the delta attack so long ago._

_Willy's glance falls down to Mitch's throat. There's no wound, no blood, not even a scar as if what happened to him was only a nightmare._

_Like Louis, Mitch has another worldly glow about his skin, a light in his stare, something so real that Willy finds himself at a loss. He wants to believe that he's here- actually, physically here- and that everything around him is true._

_Except it's not._

_"When we were saying our goodbyes to Rosie, I kept thinking about you," Willy starts. "Kept telling myself not to cry because you wouldn't. You'd be strong and pull through it, just like you used to whenever we lost someone. But, I couldn't keep it in."_

_He looks to his hands in shame._

_"I thought I was done crying... done being small."_

_"You're not small anymore."_

_Mitch stretches out one of his legs, nudging him to do the same. Their legs reach out the length, almost. Actually, comparing them this way, Willy's reach is farther._

_"Somethin' always told me you'd outgrow me," Mitch mumbles. "Damn."_

_"Really?"_

_"Really," Mitch grins. "So, stop callin' yourself small."_

_"Can't help it. Still feel that way, like I'm not doing everything I can for everyone. They're all sad, but Aasim's still taking care of the rabbits and Ruby's still running the greenhouse. Violet's damn near blind and Clem has no leg and they're doing more than me."_

_"Willy, that's bullshit. You've stepped up a lot, fixed a lot of things I never got the chance to, made things more secure for everyone. I always knew ya had that in you. And the shit with the delta? Who built that bomb? You did. You helped kill those fuckers and stop them from ever bothering our home ever again."_

_"...I did do that."_

_Mitch chuckles. "Felt that explosion from here, y'know." He knocks his fist against Willy's shoulder. "Hell of a bomb, kid. Couldn't've done it better myself."_

_Something swells around Willy's heart, something comforting._

_"Seriously," he adds."I wasn't right about everything and I said and did some stupid shit, but I wasn't ever wrong about you. Yeah, Rosie's gone and that sucks, but you know what? You're gonna be sad for a while and then you'll be better. Thing's'll get back to normal, just like they always do. You'll get into that flow again, building traps and making weapons, just like how I taught you."_

_The words sink in slowly just as something bubbles in Willy's throat. He turns to Mitch again, studying his serious face. It's the same one he used to make whenever Willy beat himself up over messing up a trap or whenever he missed a shot while hunting. The face that said, "Don't sweat it, you'll get better."_

_"...What do you know? You're dead."_

_He doesn't mean for that to slip out, or for it to be so harsh, but the effect on both of them is instant. Mitch's frown deepens, his brows furrowing as his eyes become dark, slipping shut as he takes a deep breath._

_"Yeah," Mitch nods. "Been dead for a while now, but that doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about or that you shouldn't listen to me."_

_"It means you're not really here."_

_"So what?"_

_"So, none of this is real. Not you, not Rosie, not Louis, not the sun, not the treehouse, nothing. You're dead and I..."_

_Mitch grabs his wrist, squeezing tightly._

_"Then pretend it is and hear what I'm telling you. You're better than this. What happened to me wasn't your fault, or Tenn's, or anybodys. Hell, if it's anyone's fault, it's mine," his shoulders slump, defeated, "realized that one a little too late."_

_He loosens his grip._

_"Left you a lot sooner than I ever wanted to," Mitch admits. "Always said I'd be there, y'know. Told'ja I'd make sure nothing ever got you, that you'd always have something to eat and wear and fight with-."_

_"Why?" Willy interrupts without thought._

_"Why what?"_

_"Why'd you do all that? Why were you always so nice to me?" Willy asks. While he knows this isn't real, he still finds himself desperate for an answer. "I was just a weird kid who did stupid, gross stuff. You never had to take care of me, but you did. I should've been better than that."_

_"Willy-"_

_"I should've done more so that I wasn't slowing you down or wasting your time. If I was stronger then, or smarter, or faster, I could've helped save Tenn and then you wouldn't have died!" With each breath he takes, the words come faster and angrier. "Then, we could've made that bomb and blew those assholes up together!"_

_The tears finally overflow, dripping down his cheeks and onto his shorts. Wiping his nose on the back of his hand, he twists himself around and leaves the edge of the porch, struggling to his feet._

_Chirps of passing birds catch Mitch's attention for a brief second, his face falling before he rushes from the porch to follow Willy back inside the treehouse._

_"Hey-"_

_"No," Willy shakes his head. "I didn't- I didn't mean to be a burden, Mitch, and now you're gone and I can't even- I can't even thank you or tell you I'm sorry or how much I miss you-"_

_The chirping grows louder, the birds landing outside the door and looking in. Mitch turns to glare at them, hissing out, "In a minute!"_

_The floorboards beneath Willy's feet suddenly feel unstable, like one wrong move and he could fall through. The weight of his our head is too heavy for his shoulders, falling forward for him to drip his tears, staining the wood._

_"Willy," Mitch's voice is softly melancholic. "It's time to wake up."_

_"I- I know."_

_"Listen, I-" Mitch pauses, gaze falling to the ground as he crosses his arms over his chest. "I never got to say this because, uhm, y'know... Shit, Willy, you weren't just some kid I looked after, you know that, right? You have to know that."_

_Willy says nothing. He doesn't think he can._

_"I had a lot of brothers, you know. Real ass hats. Didn't miss them for too long after everything went to shit... but I had you."_

_Fingers grasp his shoulder, and he's being turned around. Once again, blinking back tears he stares straight into Mitch's eyes, his vivid green eyes that hold an eternity of life in them._

_"I never cared if you were weird or if you did stupid shit. I was weird and did stupid shit, too. You were fun and silly and I liked talking with you and I liked the way you used to follow me around like- like I was some sort of hero. You just- you were so little and scared out of your mind and I knew I had to step up and help you, because if I didn't, you wouldn't've made it and I couldn't live with myself if you ever got bit or killed or whatever. You meant too much to me."_

_Now he holds both of his shoulders, never once breaking their locked gazes._

_"You were never a burden, Willy. You were more of a brother to me than my own blood, and I'm sorry that I can't be there for you anymore. But, I need you to take care of yourself and the others, okay? I need you to grow even taller than you are now, and live until you're eighty-years-old-"_

_"Eighty?"_

_"At least," Mitch chuckles. "Think you can do that for me?"_

_"...What about after that?"_

_"After you hit eighty?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Then... then you and I can build a nine-hundred and** fifteen**-story house across the lake, just to piss Louis off."_

_Through his tears, Willy laughs, sniffling and asking, "What color?"_

_"Up to you."_

_Willy's vision becomes spotty, colors fusing together around black blobs._

_"Orange," he says. "Let's paint it orange."_

_"Orange it is," Mitch sighs, smile falling in sorrow. "If... if you ever need to, come see me again. We can hide out here and sit and talk, or carve some shit. Or, y'know, it wouldn't kill ya to write..." He grumbles that last part._

_"What?"_

_"Nevermind," he shakes his head. "Time to go, Willy. You've got morning watch."_

_Willy takes a step towards him, throwing his arms around his shoulders and giving him one final hug. Mitch doesn't hesitate, holding him back._

_"Thank you."_

_"Make me proud, okay?"_

_"I will," Willy sniffles. "Sorry I yelled at you. And cried."_

_"Don't be."_

_Willy clings to his shirt._

_"Goodbye, Mitch..."_

_He lets go._

_Willy watches him through sore, teary eyes as Mitch moves to the doorway, stepping into the light._

_"Love you, kiddo," Mitch murmurs. "No matter what, remember that, okay?"_

_With that, he fades away._


End file.
